In Between
by staceycj
Summary: These are the stories in between the shows.
1. Chapter 1

Dean watched his brother, the brother he had longed to watch and keep an eye on for the last four years, talk to the cops about how the fire started, and Dean realized that his brother could lie just as well as he did before he went to Stanford

Dean watched his brother, the brother he had longed to watch and keep an eye on for the last four years, talk to the cops about how the fire started, and Dean realized that his brother could lie just as well as he did before he went to Stanford. He had joked over the weekend that it was like riding a bike, and suddenly wished his brother had forgotten everything about hunting, was able to completely live outside the life. But he couldn't. He had stupidly brought him back into it and what was done was done. Dean absently rubbed the scar on his stomach that was the result of the wound that Jessica had stitched up a couple of months back.

Jessica was bold, courageous, and one of the sweetest people he had ever met, he knew full well why Sam loved her and wanted her to become his wife. Hell, if the situation had been reversed he would have fallen for the pretty blonde. It just seemed so unimaginable that the girl who had been so full of life and love for his brother ended up pinned to the ceiling dripping blood onto his dumfounded, terrified, horrified little brother, and then bursting into flames consuming the blonde hair, the body and then the face, the face that was frozen in a moment of terror just like his brother's had been. Just like their mother's had been.

The thought that Jessica had become their mother froze Dean to the ground. Sammy couldn't end up like his father. No. Dean wouldn't let him become some revenge obsessed man whose only love was for the dead and thoughts about the living were fleeting. Dean licked his lips and went to his brother and touched him on the shoulder. The cop eyed Dean warily, and Dean returned the favor.

"Can I take my brother now? I don't think he can take much more of this." Dean said in his most civil tone. The officer looked at Sam, then to Dean, and then clicked his pen on his notepad and nodded.

"Go ahead. Don't leave town for a while I might need to talk to you again." Sam nodded. The tears streaming down his face a testament to just how destroyed his little brother was on the inside. Dean steered his brother towards the car, and didn't miss the slight hitch in Sam's steps and in his breathing. Sam was repulsed by the car, and all that it meant. He was repulsed by having to join the life, to join in the vagabond lifestyle, and to join his brother and father on the never ending quest to find the thing that killed their mother and now the woman Sam loved more than anything. Sam got into the car. Dean noticed for the first time just how tall Sam had become, how he almost didn't fit inside the car's passenger's side anymore. That Sam was bigger than he was. Sam was more grown up. Sam was worldlier, and he had more in common with their father now. Dean swallowed hard. If Sam had more in common with their father, he would come back, he would come back to the family, but then, wouldn't he, Dean, be ousted and left alone again? He brushed the thought away and looked at his struggling baby brother.

"You need something to eat Sammy?"

"It is Sam!" Sam exploded. "When in the hell are you going to get that through your thick skull?!" Sam's eyes dripped tears, and the anger in them was palpable. Dean swallowed. "I am not a child any more! When are you going to learn that? Can you understand me when I talk? Are you just too stupid to understand me? Is that it?" Dean sat up a little straighter in the car and swallowed hard. Sammy was hurting. That was it. Sam just hurt right now. He didn't mean it. He couldn't have meant it. A small sob escaped Sam's mouth. Dean looked over and watched Sam look out of the window and saw stray tears fall down his brother's face.

"I'm sorry Sam." Dean said softly as Sam cried.


	2. Phone Conversation

At the motel Sam slumped onto the bed, disgust radiating off of him in waves, smacking Dean hard against his chest. Sam didn't want to be here. Dean put the bags on the floor next to the door and looked at his brother.

"Want the shower?" Sam looked up slowly.

"No." he said simply. Dean nodded trying to figure out what to say. It didn't help that he hadn't really talked to his brother in four years. Dean nodded.

"Okay. I'm going to get shower. I'll leave the door cracked in case you need me." Sam said nothing. Dean nodded again, dug through his duffel, found his night clothes, and went into the bathroom, started the shower, stood in front of the mirror looked at his haunted sad eyes and sighed. His whole body ached with sadness for Sam and Jessica. They both deserved better than this.

He took a quick perfunctory shower. He was standing in the bathroom drying off his tall lean body when he heard Sam talking.

"Mom?" he said shakily. Dean swallowed hard. Sam had someone else in this world to call mom. An older woman who wanted to take care and love him. Dean's gut ached. He always wanted a mom. Had he known going to college came with a devoted girlfriend and her mother wanting to take him in, he would have reconsidered rejecting that offer from the University of South Dakota. He shook his head. No, no, he still would have stayed and made sure Sammy got what he wanted. Sam deserved to have a mom for a little while. He hadn't been able to have time with their mom, it was only fair.

Sam's sobs and his declaration, "I'm so sorry" brought Dean back to the here and now. The pain in Sam's voice was raw and biting. Sam had never been this upset in his whole life. Sure he had cried and been sad when they were young, but those were things that were cured with a fifty cent ice cream cone or sleeping in the same bed. Dean wasn't equipped to handle this. He didn't know what to do to make this all better. "I'll be there." He heard Sam say. He must be talking about the funeral. Dean noted that they would have to buy him a suit in addition to other clothes and materials he would need. Dean would have to do some serious hustling to get Sammy clothed again. When Sam went to sleep, he'd do that, take care of the money; maybe even go shopping for the kid. It was the least he could do. "I love you too." He said into the phone and Dean chose that moment to come out of the bathroom. Sam had tears streaming down his face.

"You need to hit something, I'm here." Dean offered.

"I need to go with Jessica's mother to the funeral home tomorrow. I would like to use the car." He said. Dean nodded.

"Of course. The keys are in my jacket pocket." Sam nodded and fell back onto the sheets and cried leaving Dean completely out of his element and hurting deeply for his brother, so deeply that he was willing to sign his car over to him if that would make him happy.


	3. Burial or Cremation

Sleeping was a non issue that night. Sam tossed and turned, tried to hid his sobs from Dean, but some of the sobs just wouldn't be muffled and those came out a like a wail of a child who had been separated from its mother. Those hurt Dean more than anything, because they were reminiscent of the sounds that baby Sammy had made when their mother had died over his crib.

Each sob that broke from his brother was like a stab in the gut. When Sam laid down earlier, before Dean went to the diner to pick up dinner for the two of them, he had resisted any attempt at comfort Dean had attempted to provide, instead Sam stayed curled up in a ball on his bed starring at the wall.

But when night over came them and Dean finally went to bed because he didn't know what else to do, Sam started to cry. And what Dean didn't tell Sam, and would never tell him, was that he cried all night as well, cried for his brother, and cried for that beautiful girl who didn't deserve to be drug into their disaster of a life and killed for loving his brother, the man who deserved to be loved and to have everything he wanted out of life. Dean had sacrificed his relationship with Sam in order for Jessica to be able to have him, for Jessica to escort Sam into that normal apple pie life that Sam wanted.

He stayed in bed long into the morning, long after Sam's sobs had calmed down into small whimpers, and he pretended to sleep as Sam got up, showered, dressed, dug in Dean's coat pocket for the Impala's keys and left the motel room.

While Sam was gone at the funeral home with the mother that he had acquired, Dean started looking for the son of a bitch that had killed the pretty blonde who had a heart of gold. He wanted to do something, anything for Sam. He didn't know how to make this better.

The door to the motel room opened startling Dean from his concentration on the computer screen. The keys were hastily thrown onto the table.

"There wasn't enough of her left to burry. They had to finish the cremation." Sam announced. "Her mother is in agony." Dean nodded and licked his lips.

"I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you just leave me there?"

"What?"

"Why didn't you just let me die with her?"

"You're my brother."

"So what? You didn't want me around anyway. You were hell bent on keeping me out of your life." Tears started flowing down Sam's cheeks as he stood and slowly moved towards his brother. "You said you didn't need me." Dean swallowed. "If you didn't need me than you should have let me die with her! I loved her Dean! I loved her so much! More than you could even comprehend."

"I lied."

"You lied? Yeah. Sure. You looked like you were serious to me. Why didn't you save her?"

"What?"

"Why didn't you save Jessica? You knew that I needed saved. Why didn't you save her? Her little sister is without her big sister. Her mom is out a daughter. Why couldn't you save her?"

"She was burning-"

"What? Afraid of catching fire and dying Dean? Or ruining your face? She had a sister that needed her. Who loved her. It wouldn't have mattered if you had—" Sam stopped seeming to realize what he was saying.

"Wouldn't have mattered if I would have died. Because there isn't anyone who needs or loves me." Dean finished. He nodded. "I know that Sam. I know. If I could have gotten her and you both out I would have. I would have given my life for hers, just so you wouldn't' have to go through this."

"I didn't mean."

"You meant it. I understand."

"Dean?"

"You hungry? I'll go get you something to eat. You probably haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry." Sam said defeated.

"I'm going to go across the street and get myself something to eat then. Do you want a pop or something to drink?" he asked as he put his coat on. Sam noted that Dean never looked at him while he was getting himself ready to leave.

"No. I'm fine."

"Okay. Call me if you need anything." Sam nodded. Dean had pulled the mask back on. The mask he had worn most of Sam's childhood, that said he was fine, that it didn't matter if someone treated him like shit as long as little Sammy was fine. Sam covered his face with his hands and sobbed.


	4. Funeral

Dean stood behind Sam, behind most of the mourners, and listened to the preacher talk about God and how Jessica's soul would be accepted into his house. Every single time Jessica's name was mentioned Sam's shoulders shook a little more, finally, unable to take it any longer, Dean put his left hand against this brother's back. Palm flat, giving him the most support he could through a simple touch.

When Sam had become a pre-teen he had become leery of touch, of hugs and kisses of any kind. Especially if they came from Dean. Dean, because he was a teenager himself, never understood that that was what children did as they grew older, they resisted physical contact from those who served as parents. Dean was that parent, and therefore Sam cut off physical contact with him. Had Dean known that, he probably wouldn't have felt so rejected and unwanted. He probably would still allow someone to offer that type of affection to him. But now that it had been so long since he had hugged or kissed someone he truly loved, and didn't know how the gesture would be received, he settled for the palm against his brother's back, and hoped desperately that that would be enough for his little brother. Sam's back relaxed with the touch, and that was enough for Dean.

Once the ceremony was complete, Sam was enveloped in a cloud of people that were obviously Jessica's family and close friends. They whisked him away and into the limo that would drive the family back to the church. Dean was headed to his car when a tall blonde girl came running towards him. He stopped, keys in his hands, looking at the girl with the striking blue eyes and the sad expression.

"Are you Dean?" she asked.

"Yes, I am."

"You are Sam's older brother right?"

"Yes I am." He said again unsure of how this conversation should proceed.

"I'm Jessica's younger sister Olivia." She seemed to think for a moment. "Are you driving back to the church?"

"Yeah."

"Can I ride with you?"

"I thought that you would want to--"

"No. I want to talk to you."

"Does your mom know?"

"She barely notices anything since Jess's death. Who could? It's okay. I don't think you are some psycho killer or anything, not if you are Sam's brother." Dean nodded and she followed him to his car. "Wow this is a nice car."

"Thank you. Been in our family for years." He said as he walked with her to the passenger's side and opened the door for her. She smiled weakly and sat down, he shut the door gently and went to his side, got in and started the car, and waited for the others to start making their way out of the cemetery.

"Umm." She started and fingered her purse. "Sam said something yesterday while we were at the funeral home getting ready to have her service." Dean braced ready to be told off by this girl. He hadn't been able to save Jessica, that was the person that Olivia cared for most, she was going to ask him why he hadn't made any more effort to save Jessica than he had. Hell, he had been asking himself the same question.

"Yeah," he encouraged. "What did he say?" He pressed down on the accelerator as they headed out of the cemetery.

"He said that you tried to save Jessica and that you couldn't. That she was too far gone by the time you got to her." Dean swallowed. "I want to thank you for getting Sam out." Dean was shocked. "Jessica loved him very much, and she would have been devastated if he had died."

"Yeah, but I'm sure she didn't mean to leave you behind. I wish I had been able to save her for you."

"Sometimes things happen that are beyond our control." She said and a tear slipped. "Thank you for all that you did. My sister talked about you. Said she couldn't tell Sam that she spent that weekend with you in the motel. Said that he wouldn't understand that she needed to get to know you."

"She told you that?"

"Yeah. She felt really bad for you. Felt like you could give the world so much and you just weren't letting the world give anything back. She admired that about you."

"I don't deserve her admiration." Olivia let out a small laugh.

"She said you were humble. But I really didn't expect this humble, not after looking at you. But I saw what you did for Sam at the funeral. You really worry and care about him. I'm glad he has you." To Dean's surprise they were back at the church and he got out of the car and opened her door before she did. She smiled and thanked him. He closed the door and she enveloped him in a hug. He felt her start to cry. "Please take care of Sam. My mom loves him like a son. Please. And thank you for trying." Dean was having more difficulty than normal reigning in his emotions, and he didn't trust his voice so he hugged her a little tighter and nodded. She let go. Looked up at him through tears and tried to smile.

"I better get inside." Dean nodded and watched her follow friends and family back into the church. He got back into the Impala and headed back to the motel room. He had to be composed before Sam saw him again, Sam needed him strong. He couldn't fall apart over a girl he had supposedly never met, and he could never tell him that he knew her. Never. She trusted him to do his job, just like their father had. He couldn't let them down.


	5. Appology

They spent a week exploring any supernatural item that appeared on their radar. Dean even checked out leads while Sam slept, because Dean couldn't sleep with Sam waking up, startled, strained, and upset every couple of hours. He even called their father several times hoping that he would come back and help him help Sammy. He didn't. And there was nothing supernatural anywhere in California, much less something that could have been responsible for Jessica's death.

"Find anything?" Sam asked when he emerged from the bathroom, clean, wet, and dressed.

"Nope. I don't think we're going to find anything either Sammy." Dean said softly. Sam bit his lip and nodded.

"I think you're right." He admitted. "We need to go find Dad." Dean nodded. "Black Water Ridge is it?" Sam asked. Dean nodded again, finished off the last of the coffee that he had been drinking, coffee that had long ago stopped tasting good.

"Let me get our gear together." Dean said rising from the chair he had been sitting in for the last four hours. Stretching his back, he felt each of his vertebra pop and crack back into place.

"No." Sam said simply. "You need sleep. You haven't been sleeping."

"Neither have you." Sam shuffled slightly. "You need sleep Dean."

"So do you."

"Please Dean sleep. I'll sleep in the car." Dean looked at him for a second and tried to decide if he was serious. He was. Dean nodded.

"Okay. I'll sleep for a couple of hours. Why don't you try to get some sleep too." Sam nodded.

The nightmares continued all of the way to Black Water Ridge and Dean for the life of him couldn't get Sam to talk about them. The whole hunt Sam was erratic and seemed ready to explode at a moment's notice. He seemed to have calmed down now, and Dean was grateful. Because it was going to be a long drive to the next motel and dealing with a crabby Sammy was worse than a silent Sammy.

"You sure you are okay Dean?" Sam asked out of the blue sort of startling Dean out of his survey of the scenery as it passed by his window, sometimes it was nice to not have to drive.

"The paramedic checked me out. They said I'm fine."

"They may have said that you were fine, but are you really fine?"

"I'm good."

"Your arms don't hurt?" Truth be told they did hurt. His body was pretty much all muscle but still there was a lot of that, and it hurt to hang all of that weight by your wrists. But he had been tied up far longer than that he had with the Windigo and he wasn't about to complain about this time. Especially not to Sam.

"It's not like I'd been hanging there for days or anything." Sam felt the beginning of a question form in the back of his head. How would Dean know what hanging for days felt like? Sam pushed it as far back into his head as possible. There were other things he needed to say tonight, and that would just shut his brother down as surly as turning off electricity to a factory.

"As long as you are sure."

"I'm sure." Dean said. The conversation, to Dean at least was over. But like always Sammy didn't seem to get the end of conversation vibe like normal people.

"Dean, I'm sorry." Sam said not taking his eyes away from the road.

"For what? It wasn't like it was your fault the Windigo liked me more than you." Dean tried to joke.

Sam sighed trying to keep his temper under wraps. "For what I said the other week. After Jessica's death."

"Sam, no big deal.

"It is a big deal. I don't want you to think that I would rather have her alive and you dead."

"Sam, no chick flick moment please. I'm injured."

"I need to say this." Sam said with a quick determined glance at his brother. Dean steeled himself for the moment that was about to ensue. "I had no right to say what I did the other night. I had no right to imply that I would rather have had you dead. I was hurting. That wasn't an excuse." Sam sighed. "I—" he almost said love you but he knew that would overload his brother. "I respect you." He amended. "I'm very grateful to you for saving my life. Thank you." Dean's face heated up with embarrassment. Truly. He had needed to hear those words. He needed to know that his brother really didn't hate him. Didn't want him dead.

"It's my job Sammy."

"I think Jessica would have liked you." He said suddenly. "She spent a lot of time and effort over the last couple of years to get me to talk to you. I really wish you two could have met."

"Me too Sammy."

"It's Sam." He amended. Dean smiled.

"Yeah sure whatever." Sam sighed. That was the end of the conversation. Sam didn't say another word about it and Dean was grateful, first because he had apologized, and second because he wouldn't have to go through that particular chick flick moment ever again. In the back of his head he knew there were more to come, and that was something he wasn't looking forward to.


	6. Lucas

They left Andrea and Lucas waving in their rearview mirror. Dean never looked back, never waved, he just kept his eyes forward and drove. Sam watched his brother, and realized that the man who was sitting next to him was not the same man who he had left four years ago. This hunt had proven it to Sam. It had proven that there was more to his brother than cocky self assuredness, snark, and charm. There was a real person under the persona, the leather and the shine of the car.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged. "We just driving aimlessly?" he asked. Dean shrugged again. "Are you going to answer me?"

"When I have an answer I'll give you one."

"Dean." Sam said in a huff. Dean simply turned the music louder and pressed a little harder on the accelerator. This was the Dean he remembered from four years ago, stubborn and unwilling to listen to anyone and most certainly not open to speaking about his feelings no matter what the cost.

But he had opened up to Lucas. Sam was there. Sam saw it. Sam heard it. All of it. How could his brother be so willing to open up to a complete stranger but so completely adverse to even the idea of talking to him, his brother, about something as simple as how he feels about the weather.

Watching Dean with Lucas, startled Sam, made him wonder what his brother could have been if it hadn't been for their drill sergeant father and hunting. Was there even a chance somewhere buried deep inside his fearless older brother that he wanted to be a father, wanted to come home every single day from work to a wife and kids? Could that even be possible?

Was there something Dean would rather do? Sam always assumed that Dean's life was complete with hunting. Then when he said the other week that what made their life worth the trouble was saving innocent lives, Sam had been convinced that there was nothing in the world that Dean Winchester would rather do than hunt. But when he knelt down in front of Lucas and told him about how he was brave for his mom, and how he still thought about it, really shook something deep inside of Sam. The way his brother clutched Lucas to his chest when he broke the surface of the water was closer to a way a father would hold a child rather than a man rescuing a child he barely knew. Dean had performed CPR and Sam had called the squad and when Lucas started breathing and calling for his mother, Dean finally fell back and allowed Andrea to have her son back, and if Sam hadn't been watching him he would have missed the look of sadness that flicked through his brother's eyes, would have missed the longing that tensed his muscles.

Sam turned to the elder hunter when he realized they were slowing down. "What are you doing?"

"I thought we'd pull over and have at those sandwiches the kid made for us. I'm hungry."

"Me too." Sam lied. They pulled into a park and parked in the shade of a big tree. Sam reached behind them and grabbed the plate of sandwiches and fruit and followed his brother to a picnic table. The two men sat and Dean pulled back the plastic wrap from the food, and each took a sandwich. Dean laughed as he got jelly all over his hands.

"I haven't had this messy of a sandwich since you made me that one for my birthday when you were seven or eight. I wore more of it than I actually ate."

"I don't remember that." Sam said and took a bite out of the banana.

"You don't? Well you were so proud of yourself. I couldn't not eat it. But man it was nasty. It was peanut butter, jelly, and something crunchy. First I thought it was the peanut butter, but I looked." Dean started to laugh. "But dude, I still don't know what it was but it wasn't the nuts." Sam laughed.

"You ate it anyway?"

"Of course. That was my birthday gift. It was a great one too."

"Even though it tasted bad?"

"Yeah." Dean took another bite. "There is just something about having something made specifically for you that makes even the worst tasting thing taste good." Sam looked at the sandwich in his hand and was reminded of all of the meals that Jessica had prepared for him and he had to admit his brother was right. He looked up and watched his brother chow down, and thought about that memory he had shared. His mind kept wandering back to the time Dean had spent with Lucas, and Sam decided that it was now or never, because Dean in a sharing mood didn't come often.

"You ever want kids of your own?" Dean shrugged.

"I would never put a kid in the kind of danger that we face all of the time."

"That didn't answer my question."

"Sam, you're the one who wants the whole white picket fence thing. That isn't my gig."

"The way you and Lucas…"

"It's no big deal."

"Dean…."

"Sam, there is no point in wishing for something you can't have. So drop it. Come on. Let's hit the next city and get a newspaper and see if we can find anything." Dean shoved the last bite of the sandwich in his mouth and threw the empty paper plate and plastic wrap in the nearest trash can and headed to the Impala. Sam sighed. Maybe Dean wouldn't wish for things for himself, but that wouldn't stop Sam from wishing for his brother.


	7. The Man

Having Sam back in his life was the best thing in the world for Dean Winchester. He finally had his best friend back, albeit damaged from the death of his girlfriend, he had a hunting partner, a reluctant one but one none the less, and someone to share a room with and to talk to again. Over the last two years especially, Dean spent many hours talking to the television set, or talking to his car, or he would simply go for days without hearing the sound of his own voice.

The day he asked for two double beds instead of one single was a happy moment for him, even if his brother had yelled and said things that were hurtful and that Sam hadn't meant, but it was so nice to have another presence along for the ride.

Despite the happiness it brought Dean to have his brother by his side again, it was also more difficult than he thought it would be. Sam came back to him different, changed because of what happened to Jessica but also changed because he had lived four years completely differently than Dean had. He liked coffees that Dean had never heard of, he liked clothes that were stylish, and he wore his hair longer than he used to, as if one final act of rebellion had been to let his hair grow past his ears and out of the standard, clean cut, look that his father had always made him wear. He acted different, new things made him mad, new things made him sad, and things that he didn't even understand made Sam happy now.

The newest change that Dean didn't understand, came more so from within than anything Sam and done or not done. He always thought of himself as a big brother, as a protector, and even when Sam was gone, he still defined himself in that manner. But with Sam back, that protectiveness was off. It was like he had spent four years looking for a favorite tee shirt only to find it and realize that it didn't fit anymore. Sometimes he felt like he was trying to stuff a man into a child's shirt.

He didn't know how to comfort the man who was hunched over the keyboard at 3 AM. If it was four years ago he would have called him over asked him what the problem was and then made a lame joke and told him to go back to bed. But the man didn't need that kind of comfort. He needed his girl back. He needed his friends at Stanford, he needed someone more capable than he. All he could do was pretend to sleep while his brother was awake, check on him every fifteen to twenty minutes and make sure he was all right. He could wake up when Sam started to thrash around the bed, he could wake him when he started screaming, and he could help him back into bed without a word when he fell off of the bed when the nightmares made him thrash to the point of falling. Dean could bring him a glass of water and a sleeping pill. But there wasn't much more he could do. He couldn't tell Sam that everything was going to be all right anymore and it soothe Sam, or comfort him. Right now any kind of platitudes he could offer would be false.

His eyes opened and he found his little brother sleeping head bent over the computer. Dean flung the covers off of himself, pulled the sheets down on Sam's bed and contemplated if he was strong enough to lift his brother anymore. Before Sam left for Stanford he had still been pretty thin, he hadn't been nearly as tall, and it hadn't taken very much for him to pick his brother up and put him to bed.

"Sammy." Dean said with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"hmmm?"

"Sammy, I need you to help me get you to bed."

"Okay." Came the sleepy reply. Dean put his hand underneath Dean's armpits and helped him up and guided his bleary eyed brother into his bed, covered him up, and starred at him as he resettled back into sleep just like he had thousands of times before when they were kids and he fell asleep watching TV, or when he was a teenager and feel asleep studying. But that had been when Sam was young, vulnerable, and in need. He was a man now. Things were different. And as Dean watched him for a moment he worried that he wouldn't be able to be the brother the man needed.


	8. Adjusting

Sam had grown accustom to certain ways of living while he had been at Stanford. He was used to eating food that didn't come out of a paper sack, to drinking coffee that wasn't complimentary from a motel that boasted free coffee as their one and only reason to stay at their particular motel, and he was used to things being neat and tidy. Most of all, he was used to waking up to Jessica sleeping beside him. Used to pushing her hair away from her neck and giving her a good morning peck, waking her up gently so she could get up and get ready for school, eating breakfast with her and then parting ways for the afternoon, and then reconvening at the end of the day for a meal and conversation, and joint study sessions.

Today, so far (It wasn't even 9 AM), he had been woken by his brother getting ready for the day. Turning on the shower full blast, the electric razor, turning on the television for noise, all of it in concert had wakened Sam out of his slumber. Dean was not quiet about anything that didn't involve being on a hunt.

"Dean! Dude! You need to be quieter in the morning." Sam yelled. Dean actually looked apologetic.

"Sorry. Still not used to having someone with me." he said and turned off the television. "Gonna go get us breakfast. Be back." The words bounced in Sam's head echoing. He got up, grabbed a change of clothes, and headed into the shower. Sam realized something while he was taking a luke-warm shower—Dean hadn't been living with anyone in quite a while. He wasn't used to someone in the bed with him, waking him up gently, or even waking him up at all. It had been four long years since Dean had had to share a shower with anyone, or worry about where he put his boots. Both of which Sam had yelled at him for numerous times since he and Dean had started their search for their father.

He suddenly wondered what those years had been like for his brother. How quiet had they been? Who had talked to him when he was upset? Who had closed his wounds, who had taken care of his brother? A sudden realization washed over him, no one had watched over Dean. If he was upset, the television was the only thing around to comfort him. Or his car. There weren't people though. There weren't people who he could call and ask advice of, or even get to come and spend an hour or two with him. Everyone Dean knew were hunters, and they all were pretty solitary. He had been mad at Bobby for a couple of those years, and Bobby told Sam a year or so ago that even though Dean and Bobby had made up, Dean didn't come to Bobby's out of respect for Sam. Said that it was the closest thing Sam had to a home and he wanted him to feel as if he could come by any time, and not worry whether or not Dean was there. So even after he and Bobby had made up, Dean still didn't feel like it was his home anymore. Another sacrifice.

He brushed his hair and thought about how closed off his brother had become since his return to the hunting fold. Dean used to be cocky and self assured, sure, but there was always a softer side that Sam could access, but it seemed as if now that access code had been changed, and it seemed like no one had the new number except Dean.

Dean was attentive, loving, and tender when Sam needed him to be. He took care of the wounds both physical and mental. He spared nothing to keep Sam happy. But he didn't tell Sam about his time without him, and he didn't share if he were hurt even when it was clear to both of them that he was.

He cleaned up his mess and put his things away. He looked at his brother's unmade bed, and any other day he would have huffed, but today he realized that his brother was right, he wasn't used to sharing a room with anyone anymore. No one really ever seemed to want to stay with his brother, no one ever really fought for his attention. No one was ever there to care if his boots were in the middle of the floor or out of the way, because there was no one to trip over them. No one but Dean. That thought saddened him. Hit him harder than he ever expected. The door opened, Sam jerked up and saw Dean balancing food, drink and key and he went and helped him.

"I got it." Dean said.

"I can help." Sam said and took the drinks from his brother.

"Thanks." Dean said.

"Your welcome." The next day, when Sam woke up, he didn't wake up to his brother making noise. He woke up because he had slept enough. Dean was sitting on his bed, fully clothed reading the newspaper, his music playing through his headphones, and not openly in the room. Dean was trying to be considerate. And Sam supposed that he needed to start doing the same, because they both had adjusting to do.


	9. EMF

Amazement had prompted him earlier to ask what the thing was, and jealousy had been the fuel for making fun of his brother's contraption. But now that he sat there, holding it in his hands, he realized where he had seen the thing before. He had given it to Dean for his 18th birthday. Sam had saved his lunch money, eaten the bare minimum for weeks and he bought it at a pawn shop, and then gone to a used music shop and bought his brother half of the cassette tapes that were in his collection. The look on Dean's face had been classic. His amazement was evident and he played that thing all of the time. He always had it in the pocket of his coat, and had the headphones on whenever he could. But that really didn't explain to him why the player had been turned into an EMF meter and where in the hell his brother had learned to do something like that.

The shower stopped and Sam counted the seconds until Dean emerged from the bathroom. Boredom and close quarters had encouraged Sam to time his brother from time of shower turning off to the door opening. When they were teenagers, it had given him enough time to try to figure out how to get Dean to cave and let him do what he asked, because for all intents and purposes Dean was the one whose permission he needed.

When he was in high school and Dean's hair had been much longer than it was now, it had taken him 20 minutes from shower water turning off until out of the bathroom, but now that Dean's hair was significantly shorter, something that had caught Sam off guard, the last time he saw Dean his hair almost brushed his shoulders in the back and touched his ears in the front, and now it only took him two to three minutes after the water turned off for him to emerge from the bathroom.

"What are you doing with the EMF reader Sammy?" Dena asked as he put his clothes back into his bag.

"Just wondering how exactly you did it."

"I'm not a complete and total idiot you know." Dean had meant for it to be a joke but the words soured on Sam's stomach.

"I never thought you were an idiot." Sam said.

"Sammy, come on." Dean rolled his eyes.

"But why this walkman?"

"Don't you remember?"

"What?"

"You gave it to me for my birthday."

"I remember that part."

"Well, I couldn't just throw it away when it broke."

"Most people would."

"Most people get to see their brothers when ever they want to." Dean cringed. He said more than he intended. He had engaged in a chick flick moment and there was now no escape.

"So, you kept this because of me." Dean sighed.

"It's no big deal, Sammy." Dean shrugged and sat down on his bed. "It broke and I needed an EMF meter."

"Dad has like three meters. You didn't need to make one."

"Dad had taken off on me. And took most of the weapons and stuff with him. I had made him mad about something, I don't remember what, and I couldn't exactly go to Wal-Mart and ask for an EMF meter. So that was all I had, and I had broke it right after you went to school, and it was just sitting in my bag so I figured I'd see if I could make a meter out of it." He shrugged. "And it worked. Go figure."

"How did you bust the walkman?"

"Uhhh." Dean smiled sheepishly. "It sort of made contact with a wall of a motel room." Dean said as he pretended to look for the remote.

"Made contact with the wall. And how exactly does a walkman do that?"

"Maybe it was propelled by an angry spirit." Dean tried.

"Maybe it was propelled by an angry brother?" Sam asked.

"Yeah whatever,"

"Why did you chuck it?"

"Why does it matter?"

"It just does."

"That isn't an answer Sam."

"It is for you."

"Sam, I don't want to talk about it."

"You never want to talk about anything." Sam said in a huff and threw the meter in the bag. "It's always, 'shut up Sam' 'not now Sam' 'drop it Sam.' But every single time I have a nightmare I am expected to just share everything. Well, why doesn't that street go two ways?"

"Why should it?"

"What?"

"Why should I tell anyone anything? You're going to leave, Dad left. Hell I'm pretty sure I can say something to Bobby and he'll tell me never to call him again. So what does it matter if I tell you why I threw the walkman at the wall? It is a good hunting tool now. Just go with it."

"Dean, I'm not.."

"What? Not going to leave when we find dad?" Dean shrugged. "Of course you will. Go back to Stanford and get that education. I would if I were you. Why shouldn't you?"

"But I wouldn't not talk to you."

"You didn't for four years…"

"Wait. Don't you do that Dean. You pushed me away that last time. You told me that you didn't need me." Dean looked down at the comforter on the bed.

"I said that because I didn't want you hurt. You had that pretty thing, and you had everything you wanted. I knew better. I knew if I kept in touch with you I would have done exactly what I did, get you back on the hunt. And look at you, you're miserable. It is all my fault. I should have just simply stayed away from you."

"Dean…"

"I don't want to talk anymore Sam." Dean slipped under the covers and turned away from his brother. "Good night Sam." Sam shook his head, frustration bubbling to his throat. All of this because of a stupid EMF meter.


	10. Captain Dean Winchester

His father's voice mail message burned in Dean's stomach. The man was obviously all right enough to change his voice mail message but why in the hell wasn't he all right enough to call him and let him know he was okay? Was he really that horrible of a son that his own father didn't want to contact him anymore? Dean had the slight notion that if Sam had been the one to stay behind and he went to college no one would have noticed or cared. He suspected that John Winchester wouldn't have left Sam like a hot rock and refused to answer his phone calls. He would have taken Sam along. Wouldn't have just left a voice message letting other people know his son's phone number so they could get in contact with him to take care of their two bit supernatural problems.

Because when it boiled right down to it, Dean knew that their dad was going after the big bad, the one that took out his mom. And Dean felt like he had a right to be there when it was taken down. He had given up his life to fight against evil in this world because of that one single evil son of a bitch. And now it had taken both of his parents away from him, and it was only a matter of time before it took Sammy from him as well. This time when Sammy left, he wouldn't be around anymore. One bullet to the head should do it. No reason to keep going when no one cares that you are alive.

"You okay Dean?" Sam asked from the passenger's seat. Dean had been extraordinarily quiet since they left the air strip. Dean startled almost imperceptibly but Sam noticed it. They had been back together for a couple of months and all of the signals that Dean gave, from the slight jerk of his eyes towards a sound to the tightening of shoulder muscles, were again telling Sam the story of his brother and his emotional state. It was like riding a bike, granted different bike, but he could still read his brother.

"I'm fine Sam." That tone of fine meant that it wasn't fine but with a little prompting he would at least share what the problem is.

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care what you believe."

"Dean. Is it about the phone message?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"So it is."

"Sam." Dean said exasperated.

"Don't do that Dean. Don't shut me out."

"Then respect my wishes and don't bring it up." Sam looked out the window and realized that this was one of the differences in the bike. It was a lot more rusty, and it wasn't quite as responsive to brother puppy looks. Sam watched the scenery pass his window while he tried to figure out a new tactic.

"I think he treats you like shit." Sam announced. Dean's big green eyes, eyes that always told exactly what he was thinking no matter how much he tried to hide it, rolled to Sam.

"What are you talking about Sammy? Dad doesn't treat me like shit." Sam didn't look at his brother. He decided that if he made this conversation look off handed that he would get more out of his brother.

"I think he does. I mean, you, the perfect soldier, always does exactly what Dad says, and he ditches you. That's a pretty shitty way to treat one of your soldiers. You don't deserve to be treated like that."

"He must have had a good reason."

"But then why can't he call you and let you know that he is okay? But he can change his voice mail to tell people how to get a hold of you."

"He must have a good reason." Dean repeated.

"Dean. You deserve to be treated better."

"I'm being treated how I've been treated my whole life."

"That's not true."

"Of course it's not. How much farther to the next town Sam?"

"Not too far." Sam said with a sigh. He thought about the message again and something clicked. "I think you've been promoted." Sam said suddenly.

Dean sighed in exasperation. "What in the hell are you talking about Sam."

"You aren't the soldier anymore. You're the Captain. The general put you in charge. And he is sending you to the front to save lives." Sam said quietly.

Dean looked at his brother for a second and realized that Sam was right and it suddenly made things a little better.


End file.
